Powdered Jello
by Carnation's Soul
Summary: Following the enactment of West Side Story, Brittany has encountered feelings regarding Santana's representation of Anita.  Fluffy angst.


**After re-watching West Side Story I couldn't stop visualizing Santana as Anita, so when the near-rape scene came along…this story just popped into my head. I hope you like it. BTW! This comes a little late, but…Happy Brittana Day to everyone!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, West Side Story or any of its characters. This story was written only for recreational purposes.**

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><p>I remember watching Santana backstage and thinking she was beautiful. She looked like one of the movie stars in the old films that Rachel made us watch in Glee Club. She sat in front of one of the gigantic mirrors placed by Artie for everyone's use. And, even though that wasn't the first time I considered myself lucky for having the hottest girlfriend. There was something in the way in which her eyes shone with guarded excitement while she finished the last touches of her red lipstick… that made my insides tingle. When she caught my eyes through the glass and a real smile stretched across her face, I knew that I wanted nothing more than to stay close to her for the rest of the evening.<p>

"Brittany!"

"I'm sorry" I looked at Quinn. I hadn't paid attention to what she said. She continued to stare hard at me and after a couple of seconds, repeated herself.

"I said you look great. Blue _is_ your color." I looked down at my dress and nodded in agreement. Quinn didn't lie.

"You look pretty too. San-" I was about to comment how gorgeous Santana was but decided against it. Quinn and San were always a bit competitive against each other, and I didn't want her to feel bad or anything. "Everybody looks amazing."

"Santana is stunning." She replied with finality. It was the tone she used when she didn't want a response. Her trade smirk appeared. "Rachel won't be happy."

"Well… Red _is _Santana's color" It was a little lie. Not the part about red being San's color; because during Christmas she surprised me in my bedroom wearing red lingerie and a Santa's helper hat, and she looked unreal. But, truth is…Santana looks great wearing anything and _nothing_. Quinn was now staring at me baffled. Maybe I said the last part out loud. "… To much information?"

"A little" She didn't seem angry so I turned to glance at Santana again. It was so hard not going over there. "Brittany, just go and sit with her."

"Thank you!" I didn't bother lying. Quinn deserved better. I gave her a big smile and practically hopped over to Santana.

"Finally! I thought Fabray was going to take all my Britt Time…" She finished gathering her make-up and turned to face me. I love how San always gives me her entire attention. It's like she knows that I don't want to miss a word of what she's saying. I wanted to tell her about how nice she smelled; or how amazing she would be; or how much I wanted to get my sweet lady kisses. But having her so close was messing with my mind. I felt myself going numb again. It's what I call the 'Santana Effect'. It's one of the main reasons I always let her talk…that way I can just stare at her. "You look so beautiful, Britt."

"Are you nervous?" I tried to change the subject so she wouldn't notice my embarrassment. Santana took a deep breath as if to gather her words.

"A bit… My dad is coming today." The last part came out no louder than a whisper, but I still heard it. I could tell she was anxious because she avoided my gaze. After a quick check to make sure no one was around us, I grabbed her face and forced her to see into my eyes.

"You are the most amazing girl in this school. _You_ have nothing to worry about." The dimply smile that showed on her face after my words lightened the entire room and made my heart thump faster inside of my ribcage.

"Well…you may have a good point there, Britt Britt."

" 'Course I do. _I_ _am_ genius."

"That you are" She chuckled. God! She threw me a flirty look under her eyelashes and her chocolate brown orbs sparkled with possibilities. "So how about if after the show we go to my house and get our cuddle on?"

"San, you don't need to ask. " I submerged myself in twirls of caramel. Didn't she know that I could never say no to her. "I'm yours. " The conviction of my words seemed to surprise her. Yet, It was the truth. I've never felt so attached to anyone in my entire life. I knew I was truly hers, to love, to use… It didn't matter. I couldn't change it. I was in to deep. A really loud bang echoed throughout the room as the door clashed against the wall.

"Ladies, we got 5 minutes…!" Rachel's high-pitched voice pinched my Santana bubble and I flinched at the sound.

"Jesus Rachel, take a chill pill… we are going" Santana rolled her eyes.

"Oh! And Puck is asking quite colourfully where you are…."

"Tell him to grow fucking balls! It's really _not_ my problem…." I could hear the edge on Santana's voice. But, the name Puck stirred something in me. I would be lying if I said I liked his position in the play. I didn't want him to be Santana's pretend boyfriend. I even tried to bribe him, but for some strange reason he wouldn't take my monopoly money. I felt the powerful need to mark my girlfriend somehow. To show everybody that she was mine too.

I waited patiently until Rachel left the room with a small huff and grabbed Santana's lips between my own. I nipped at her bottom lip urging her to open her mouth for me. The second my tongue caressed hers; I heard a small moan escape her throat and pushed myself further into the kiss. I didn't care that our red lipsticks were combining making a mess. I didn't care that the show was about to start. I just needed reassurance. After a few seconds Santana slowed the pace down and nudged me gently apart.

"What was that for?" Her voice was husky with want. I felt a shudder run through my spine and tried to compose myself. I really wanted to take her dress off.

"You are mine too… right?" I looked at the floor embarrassed for asking.

"Britt" I forced myself to look up and saw Santana staring at me. I double-checked my Santana's catalogue of emotions confused. The expression in her eyes showed nothing but adoration and pride. Yet, I had done nothing to earn them. I attempted to pull away self-conscious, but Santana hugged me tightly, placed a kiss on my check and pressed our foreheads together forcing me to dive again in her eternal pools of brown "…proudly so"

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><p>After the show everything had been chaotic, people were changing out of their costumes. Parents were slipping backstage to congratulate their offspring. I remember going through the motions in autopilot. I asked a couple of times for Santana, but nobody seemed to know were she was. Eventually I ran into my dad and he said Mr &amp; Mrs Lopez took her home. I couldn't shake the empty feeling gathered in my tummy. Santana said we would go home together. Was she all right? I couldn't remember the last time I felt so bad. I needed to throw up, yet my earlier attempts to do so proved useless. I felt numb.<p>

My parents insisted on celebrating the opening night with me, yet the defining silence present during dinner, promptly persuaded them that something wasn't right. I tried to explain the thoughts in my head, but I couldn't find my voice. At that point I was convinced that I needed to be with Santana. I think they assumed the same thing, because my mother gave my father a look and next thing I knew we were all inside the car driving across Lima Heights. We arrived at Santana's house and my dad parked our family van next to Mr Lopez's black Mercedes Benz. Most of the lights in the interior were turned off, except for the one in the foyer and her parent's bedroom. Was I supposed to get out of the car now?

I can't remember saying goodbye to them. I can't remember going inside of the Lopez household. What I can remember… is the relief that spread from my heart the moment I noted Santana's form under the thick covers of her bed. She was sleeping. I exhaled heavily and proceeded to discard my shorts and shoes. I slipped quietly into the sheets and wrapped my arms around Santana's waist. I placed my chest against her back and instantly, the smell of her cinnamon and rosemary lotion invaded my nostrils. I settled quietly in my Santana basket.

"Britt Britt…" Her voice was low and husky, but when she turned to face me, her eyes were open and focused intently on my face. Wasn't she sleep? "I was hoping you'd come"

"My parents dropped me…" I tried to keep the accusation from my voice. "I thought we were driving together."

"Are you mad…?" I don't know. Was I? I honestly couldn't figure what I was feeling. Maybe I was a little angry, but I wasn't angry with her. "Look, I'm sorry… your dad said he wanted to take you out, and I couldn't say anything. I texted you."

That made sense. I hadn't bothered checking my cell phone. Santana's face was scrunched in worry and confusion. I mentally scanned my face, and notice that I'd been staring at her with a frown. I tried to relax, but my back felt stiff. The anxious part of my emotions made one of my fingers twitch against the pillow. My mind was a mess. I breathed and closed my eyes.

"Brittany…" I heard the sound of sheets and felt her legs intertwined with mine. One of her hands settled against my waist, touching the skin between my t-shirt and boy shorts "Talk to me, please?"

"San… do you think Tina would be a good Anita?" I was trying to organize my thoughts and ask her to quit... But, everything was spilling out uncontrolled. I glanced at her. Santana was staring at me hard, contemplating my words.

"Britt, _why_ are you asking me this?" Maybe it came out wrong. Now it seemed like I preferred Tina, which wasn't true. Santana was the best at everything; except for dancing… she was second best at that.

"You're the best singer… Santana. But, maybe Tina can play Anita?"

"Where is this coming from?" Her voice wasn't harsh. It was soft, pleading.

"I didn't like it… I don't' like it!" I knew I was mumbling again, yet the memory of her body laying on the stage floor covered in red light and the scared look on her face when the guys started surrounding her, was making me dizzy. I tried again "It was so scary. Watching you, then _Mike_…" Even I was surprised by the way I hissed, violently, the name of one of my closest friends. She seemed to understand because she pulled me closer. Santana grabbed my face softly by its sides and trailed her thumb across my cheeks. I never realized I'd started crying.

"Britt… listen to me carefully, ok?" I attempted to look true my tears, but they were bigger now and all I could see was the blurry shape that I knew to be Santana's face. "It's all an act. You know Mike. He would never hurt me. In fact, I think I could beat him if it came down to it."

"…" I could hear her words, and deep inside I knew they were true. Mike was with Tina. He was sweet and kind. I knew Mike. Santana pressed her lips softly against mine, reassuring me and I responded by pushing my body even closer on top of hers. I wanted to feel all of it. Make sure she was, in fact, okay. I pulled apart and buried my face in her chest, breathing deeply.

After a couple of minutes in the same position, I started to feel the dull thuds of her heart against my ear and finally calmed down.

"I'll tell you a secret" She stroked my hair gently, soothingly. "It was a bit scary for me too…"

"Yeah?" I felt my voice crack. It was so childish, _crying_, when Santana needed me the most. _So stupid…_

"Totally… but _you_ made it all better." Her last words were said with the velvety quality that Santana's voice took when she talked about me. My heart thumped a little faster.

"How?"

"When I was on stage tonight and you walked in… I reminded myself that after the show I would get to come home with you." I smiled and rested my chin above my hands on her ribcage. She took one of my stranded pieces of blonde hair and secured it behind my right ear. "You are perfect Britt."

She was wrong.

Before coming here, I was powdered jello, purposeless without water. I needed her to be complete, to function. I could never go back to being just Brittany again… I needed Santana. I climbed slowly up her body feeling us fit perfectly against each other, until I reached her lips again.

"I think…_we_ are perfect."

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